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Letter from Maplewood

 In Sondheim's "Company," Elaine Stritch is just an old alcoholic, sitting on the sidelines, mocking everyone else. She realizes this isn't a great way to live and--famously--she turns her bazooka on herself:


Here's to the girls who just watch...

Aren't they the best?

When they get depressed, it's a bottle of Scotch...

Plus a little jest.

Another chance to disapprove, another brilliant zinger!

Another reason not to move! Another vodka stinger!


I hope not to be Elaine Stritch, but life on the Back Road (a road I share with several outspoken families) .....makes empathy difficult. The Human Comedy is always on air. 


Recently, the wealthy citizens on the Back Road's e-mail list wanted new "safety" signs for the perimeter of the road -- and one (female) resident dared to ask if the signs could be aesthetically pleasing.


This led to a storm of man-splaining. "You raise a good point, but...." 


One man forgot to invent a pretense-of-friendliness, and just wrote: "Pretty is fine, but it doesn't keep a car from turning wide and mauling a pedestrian. If we're going to invest in a solution, we might consider picking one that actually works."


I see strange bits of xenophobia in the Back Road e-mails. If someone worries about speeding, he inevitably writes, "The only speeders are non-Maplewood residents, who shouldn't be using this road, anyway." (And how could you begin to prove that?) Also, my road-friends are worried about opening an upcoming spring fair to the people who live on neighboring blocks; these people might have Covid! (As if I myself definitely *don't* have the bug?)


My favorite drama was around a speed bump. A plow had accidentally destroyed the bump after a heavy snow. The plow-man had a reasonable response: "I'm not fixing this, because I had warned you it would happen before we signed any contracts." But "reason" went out the window. One of my male neighbors exploded via e-mail: "We humans just sent a helicopter to Mars! A plow can do its job without assaulting a speed bump!"


I'm really fond of the helicopter-to-Mars e-mail, and I think about it often.


I am a fish out of the water--but I could try a bit harder to acclimate to terrestrial life. I could try, with all my might, not to be Elaine Stritch. Stay tuned.

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